


Coffee...Two Sugars, No Blood

by teamcap4bucky



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 17:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamcap4bucky/pseuds/teamcap4bucky
Summary: It’s revealed at a simple stakeout that you dabble in a little more activites than your teammates would like to know about.





	Coffee...Two Sugars, No Blood

“One coffee please, and an extra large sweet tea for her.” Clint pops his head your way, as the waitress takes your order outside of the small cafe near Central Park. She grins at him, taking an extra moment to turn away, forcing you to roll your eyes. 

“I can see you rolling your eyes, even under the glasses.” He quietly speaks as she is still in earshot of the table. 

“I should hope so, I’m rolling them pretty hard.” 

“Not my fault. They seem to flock to me, I can’t help it.” 

“Well, you know what they say, birds of a feather, Hoe out together.” 

“Don’t be jealous, Y/N/N. It’s not attractive.” He smirks behind his shades, as the waitress approaches again. 

She places a napkin on your side, setting down your ice tea for you. 

“I’m not jealous, and you’re a horrible liar, you know you think I’m attractive.”

“One sweet tea for the lady, and…” She moves gently to his side of the table. Ducking under the umbrella, she gently places a napkin down for him, smiling as she leans in. “One coffee for the cutie.” 

He grins a bit and nods his thanks. She flips her skirt, a sway in her hips as she turns quickly back towards the cafe. You scoff as you see that she has written her number on his napkin, surrounded by hearts and an obnoxious smiley face winking.

“Thank you for the tea, and I’ll make sure to put your number in the pile of all the other numbers that you girls keep giving MY BOYFRIEND!” You say loudly, forcing Clint to lean forward and smack your arm.

“Would you stop yelling! What is wrong with you?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Why does she assume we’re not dating? I could be your girlfriend. We come here together all the time, so what makes her think that we aren’t a couple? It’s insulting.” 

“Ooo hoo hoo, you are jealous.” Smirking behind his cup, he starts to blow on his coffee, as he watches you start to wiggle in your chair. 

“Please...I will never be one of your ‘cafe flockstitues’ so get over yourself. It’s rude, that’s all.” 

He sits back, savoring the taste of his black coffee, while people watching. 

“Alright, quit flirting with me, and tell me about our guy.”

“You wish, and his name is Alexi Sokolov. Hydra’s number… lets say, the fifteen to twenty range. Not that important, but a little rogue, trying to rise up in the ranks on his own, but pissing off the higher ups while doing it.”

“I got out of bed for a fifteen to twenty? That’s seems like a waste of time.” 

“The last time we saw him, he punched Nat in the face, and was part of the crew that shot you with the tanker in Sokovia.” 

“Interesting. Fifteen to twenty on Shield’s list, number three on mine.” He says as he slams his coffee down, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Just out of curiosity, who are your top two?”

“Number two, is the head of Hydra, or really, whoever is in charge of them that week.”

“Interesting. Interchangeable, I like that. Who’s big number one?” Taking a sip, you excitedly wait to see who it is that could possible be on the archers hit list. 

“Nathan St. Ward” His wrinkles his nose, sighing out, looking away in anger.

“I’m sorry, who?” You attempt to hold back your chuckle, but can’t help when a small laugh slips out. 

“Nathan St. Ward. He runs the blog that trashes me weekly. You know, ‘The Useless Archer?’   
He’s always talking shit about me saying things like, Hawkeye is useless, my grandma has better aim and she’s dead, they’ll recruit just about anyone these days, huh?”

You scrunch your face, not recognizing any of the info given to you.

“Sorry.” You take another sip of your tea. 

“He posted that gif of me, ya know, when I fell off the building. He called me the ‘flightless wonder.’ You had to have seen it, no?”

You smirk as the image pops into your mind. You remember that gif. It was hysterical, and you had sent it to Bucky and Sam. You had laughed about it for days.

“Yeah, that was a good one. I mean, no, that guy seems like a jerk.” You quickly recover as you receive the face of disappointment from your friend, clearing your throat. “So, he’s number one, huh?”

“Yup, numero uno.” He nods at another waitress as she waves across the way to him.

“Well, here’s to murdering our top five.” You clink your glasses together, sending him a wink.

“Cheers.” He chuckles at the absurdity of your toast.

You both straighten as Sam’s voice fills your comms. “Murder wasn’t on today’s agenda.”

“It’s not on anyone’s.” Clint says, speaking to no one in particular.

“No, it’s on mine, just not until next Thursday.” Casually you smirk, thinking about your upcoming weekend plans.

“What do you mean? What’s happening on Thursday?” Sam asks.

“Oh, I’m killing my number four. He’s in town, so, you know, when an opportunity presents itself, you gotta take it, am I right?”

Clint’s eyes widen, disbelieving the words that were coming from your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. What are you saying Y/N/N? You have actual plans to murder someone on your list?” The coffee gets placed gently on the table as he leans in to question you further.

“Yeah...wait, you don’t plan out your kills?” Clint ducks his head, shushing you from the surrounding cafe guests. 

“No...what? No, I don’t plan out ‘my kills.’ You do?” He finger quotes, then drops the bill of his hat to remain hidden.

“Yeah, I have an agenda, or a calendar... a planner if you will.” You sigh out in boredom. “Where is this guy already...what?” Looking back to Clint, you back up, wondering why his eyes were stone cold staring at you in complete shock. 

“Give it to me.” Clint holds his hand out from across the table, making grabby hands at you.

“Give you what?” You feign innocence, confusion as to what he is asking you for.

“Give it to him, Y/N.” Sam speaks in a fatherly tone.

“Fine...here.” Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a pocket sized calendar filled with names and stats written on multiple pages.

“Thursday, Thursday….ah Thursday.” Clint mumbles to himself as he flips through this month’s pages. “Oh shit, there it is...right there. Kill S.D. at hotel B... Wow.”

“Yup, I take my murder seriously.” You state, both of you nodding your head in agreement.

“No, yeah, I can see that...and it’s written in with a Sharpie, not even a pencil or pen.”

“Pens are for the weak… and pencils are for quitters.” You shoot back, pointing your finger at him. “A pencil means you’re probably going to change your mind, or reschedule...but a sharpie...sharpies are for real. That’s serious shit right there.” You raise your eyebrows and point to your planner. 

“Uh huh, yeah, I…wait.” He spots a familiar day a week and a half back, a day when you two had made plans, clearly written in sharpie. “What the hell is this?” He points to last Friday, when you had made dinner arrangements with him, heading off to a new restaurant that had opened across town.

“What?” You ask, looking at the small square in question.

“Don’t what me, we ate together that night.” He points to the same square looking annoyed.

“Yeah, and?” 

“It says right here, dinner with Clint.” He looks at you, as if he is completely annoyed that he is having to spell this out for you.

“Yeah, we had dinner that night, remember? It’s right there, in sharpie.”

“Yes, I can see that, right above ‘kill J.V.S before dessert.” His eyes now are almost bulging out of his head.

“I don’t see why you’re angry, we had a nice dinner.”

“You killed someone while we were eating dinner!” Your grit your teeth, now shushing him.

You can hear Sam’s tone drop. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, so what? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal? The big deal is that you scheduled a murder while we were supposed to be having a nice dinner!” He yells in a hushed tone.

“Again, we did have a nice dinner!” You whisper yell back, matching his tone.

“No, we didn’t. I did! I had a nice dinner! You kept leaving the table, saying something that you ate wasn’t sitting well, and you felt nauseous!”

“Well, in all fairness, I didn’t feel well. There was a lot of blood! The smell made me queasy.”

He throws the book down in front of you, and rubs his hands down his face.

“I thought you had food poisoning or something, I haven’t been back to that place since then.”

“Really? You’re crazy, that food was amazing! I’ve been back like three times!” How could he not go back, the desserts were to die for.

You can hear the panic in Sam’s voice as he yells his next words. “Y/N! You went back to the scene of the crime?”

“What crime, what scene? Until now, did you guys even know that it happened? No, you didn’t, so everyone settle down, okay?”

Clint folds his arms across his chest. “Does Steve know that this is happening? Is he aware of your…extracurricular activities?”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Yes, of course he does.” You say while shaking your head no.

“What?” He stares back in confusion. “Did Steve ask you to kill that guy?” Clint leans into ask again.

“Absolutely not.” You state while nodding your head yes.

“You know I get confused easily, right?”

“I know baby. Listen, the less you know, the better, okay?” You place your hand on his arm, gripping his bicep.

“Umm, can I get you anything else?” You both look up at the waitress, who is now zoned in on your hand on Clint’s exposed, muscled arm.

“I think my boyfriend could use another coffee, whenever you have a sec. Thank you so much, sweetie.”

Her mouth drops a bit, as you stare at her and smile. “Oh, um, yes, of course, coming right up.” She rolls her eyes a bit as she flips around, and you can hear her mutter the word bitch as she heads back inside.

Gritting your teeth, your eyes darken, focusing in on her as you slowly inch your calendar across the table away from Clint, gently pulling out your sharpie from your pocket.  
Flipping open to today’s date, you uncap your writing utensil.

“Noooo!” Clint says grabbing your sharpie and throwing it across the street. “You’re not killing the waitress today.” 

You throw your book onto the table, huffing out like toddler.

“Well, she started it. ” 

“I don’t care who started it, I’m finishing it. And while we’re at it, no more murders unless it’s ordered, officially by Steve…” You gasp in annoyance, this was crap. “Or Fury.” He holds up a finger to you, like you were being reprimanded by the principle. You go to grab your calendar and he pulls it back, smacking your hand away. “And no more killing people during our time together, do you hear me?” 

You reach for your book again, and he holds it over his head. 

“Clint!” 

“Do you hear me?” He asks again.

“Fiiiinnnneee. Now give me my book back...please.”

“Here you go, honey. One large coffee, and a refill on your sweet tea.” The waitress places his coffee down, still smiling at him, than turns to hand you your tea.

“Oh, thanks!” You say, sweet as ever to make Clint happy. You watch as she walks away, still swinging her damn hips at him, making you wanna throw your glass at her. “Homewrecking bitch.”

“We’re not dating...and don’t drink that...that’s definitely spit.”

“Yup”

“Cancel the watch guys, Steve said he’s not involved, he’s in Germany still. We had a bad lead. See you guys at home.” You watch as Sam gets up from across the street and heads towards the a taxi. 

“Bummer.” You stand up, stretching your arms and back.

Clint joins you, finishing his coffee, down to the last drop. Pushing in your chair, you stop to consider your next statement carefully. 

“Hey Clint... you know that Tony runs that website you hate, right?”

“What? No, the guys name is…”

“Yeah, Yeah, Nathan St. Ward. That’s Tony. Anthony Edward Stark. He just switched up the letters in his name. He was really mad about the whole ‘Team Cap’ thing back when he started it.

“He...no.” He thinks about it to himself for a second. “That mother…”

He slams his cup, throws a few bills on the table, and starts to storm off across the street. 

“Where are you going?” You start to yell out to him. 

“To get your sharpie!”


End file.
